12-14-2025, 08:54 AM
They say Life is like a rollercoaster,
That's what they all say
The faithful men, the cut-throats through to the meaningless existences
But may it be ever so prevelant, unbearably so
As we arise up the chain lift, slowly and anxiously,
With our slowly depreciating, once keen intent
I looked far into the distance, out of the loop to come
Staring at the unremarkable pedestrians, and the serene imagery in the birds,
Who freely soar,
Instead of facing head on, what is genuine and present more,
Once we finally crest with the tip of the perpetual drop,
Every irritant we bear gets lost to the suspense of time,
As our arms arise, our existence has just begun
As for me, I still clutched mine, weighing an uncomfortable tonne
In hopes of some comfort, or some guidance to where i find myself painfully unprepared
As we fall, down what is not infinite, but true
I silently subcome to what I have paved
As the others Scream in pursuit of what they have craved,
Along with farewells of where they once felt enslaved
Through the relentlessness of the loops,
The unwanted change of pace contained In turns,
Or the short, but equally distressing Hills,
And through all this I hear the sound of what is to achieve, as I am overbeared by the flash of the camera marking my unremarkable voyage as a moment to remember, where I cope in formation of a nihilistic ritual
Knowing this grudge won't last forever,
As we all reach the end, a fufflling wave encloses upon our seats, but missing me, in the very back
What reaches me is a different wave, one in contrast to what I envisioned would await on the grueling chain lift ride we all must take
A wave of disappointment fills my despondent figure,
From my toes to where earth meets the voident glade above,
Life is a rollercoaster,
That's what they all say,
My rid
e was unpleasant, oh unbearably so.
For a first poem written in an hour is this good.
That's what they all say
The faithful men, the cut-throats through to the meaningless existences
But may it be ever so prevelant, unbearably so
As we arise up the chain lift, slowly and anxiously,
With our slowly depreciating, once keen intent
I looked far into the distance, out of the loop to come
Staring at the unremarkable pedestrians, and the serene imagery in the birds,
Who freely soar,
Instead of facing head on, what is genuine and present more,
Once we finally crest with the tip of the perpetual drop,
Every irritant we bear gets lost to the suspense of time,
As our arms arise, our existence has just begun
As for me, I still clutched mine, weighing an uncomfortable tonne
In hopes of some comfort, or some guidance to where i find myself painfully unprepared
As we fall, down what is not infinite, but true
I silently subcome to what I have paved
As the others Scream in pursuit of what they have craved,
Along with farewells of where they once felt enslaved
Through the relentlessness of the loops,
The unwanted change of pace contained In turns,
Or the short, but equally distressing Hills,
And through all this I hear the sound of what is to achieve, as I am overbeared by the flash of the camera marking my unremarkable voyage as a moment to remember, where I cope in formation of a nihilistic ritual
Knowing this grudge won't last forever,
As we all reach the end, a fufflling wave encloses upon our seats, but missing me, in the very back
What reaches me is a different wave, one in contrast to what I envisioned would await on the grueling chain lift ride we all must take
A wave of disappointment fills my despondent figure,
From my toes to where earth meets the voident glade above,
Life is a rollercoaster,
That's what they all say,
My rid
e was unpleasant, oh unbearably so.
For a first poem written in an hour is this good.